Luyện nghe bài hát I Will Become The Reaping

Like maggots, they breed with headlines, the wounds in breathless cadavers.
Mirror blind and for gold. Now watch a terror turn on its own.
They race. And race to the carcass rot to feed.
And just past decay, this design delivers life, but they to play cancer.
In chase for the sky, uprise. In fear, the earth quakes for what's forgot.
They cut like the butchers, with pride as their cleavers, as the tide prowls shores.
They never when we screamed, "Wash the blood from your hands.
Rip off the veils. Wash the blood your hands and run, see what you forgot."
Then the clouds met the sands as the began.
In epic charge the hordes, all branches and thorns.
As the stone from their walls broke legs as crawled.
The stars had no mercy, screamed for blood in their fall.
Six pierce the night and now...
24 teeth in each of the 3 makes 72 white knives new ending.
24 teeth in each of the 3 72 white knives your new ending.
With every bring your kingdom home.
With every slaughter bring your home.
How are we this pain we are feeling?
How are we deserving pain with healing?
And on trails symphonies of agony...
Cant you see? We're demanding self-pity.
Look to the moves of the surrounding.
We're the only ones, the only ones who from growing.
One day the reaping return, and we'll be butchers no more.
Bring this slaughter home, and send everything